


Pulled From The Void

by Fishfootidentity



Series: Peaceful Circumstances [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Frina | Pinion, M/M, Reincarnation, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-24
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-08-28 13:49:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fishfootidentity/pseuds/Fishfootidentity
Summary: The last thing Bodhi saw on Scarif was a grenade being tossed into the Imperial cargo ship. He was sure a big explosion happened, but when he next opened his eyes, he finds himself on the streets in a strange world.As it so happens, the Life Foundation is recruiting another batch of homeless people to become volunteer subjects for symbiote experiments, and Bodhi unwittingly goes along with them. Of course, when he arrived at the labs, he is surprised to find that the man in charge looks almost exactly like him.





	1. Recruitment

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired greatly by [biooote3](https://twitter.com/biooote3)'s [art](https://twitter.com/biooote3/status/1059464803142365187) on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/biooote3/status/1065277606205972480) as well as [rabbitShamr0ck's art on Tumblr](http://rabbitshamr0ck.tumblr.com/post/176678115883/i-cant-remember-when-you-hurt-me-so-bad-but-now).  
> Title of work is an homage to "Pull Me From The Void" by Trivium.

Bodhi felt a spark of hope when he managed to relay Cassian’s message to the Rebel Fleet waiting outside the shield gate of Scarif. As soon as the communication ceased, he heard something get tossed into the stolen Imperial cargo freighter.

It was a grenade.

He heard the explosion and felt heat blaze over him – and he fell hard on his back. After a few seconds, the heat is gone, replaced by a light, cold rain that will still easily numb his extremities.

Bodhi sat up and examined himself. There are no burns, no traces of any injury he suffered after defecting to the Rebel Alliance. The only cloth on him right now is a large, discoloured sheet.

‘Where are my goggles? Where are my blasted clothes?’ he wondered.

Any remnant of the life he knew is missing. Perhaps he _has_ died.

He took stock of his surroundings: a dimly-lit alleyway between two rows of buildings. He adjusted the sheet around his naked body, gathered himself, and got up on his bare feet.

‘Is this what the afterlife looks like?’

Bodhi stepped from a brick-tiled path to a coarse black surface painted with white lines. Soon a wheeled vehicle appears at a far side of the stretch of black surface – and it is speeding right toward Bodhi.

He quickly moved out of the way, but the vehicle still emitted a loud noise after he has stepped on a different brick-tiled path.

“Sorry,” Bodhi muttered. He stared at the vehicle and another one following the stretch of coarse material, and continued forward.

He ducked into a different alleyway. From under the cover of darkness, he can see two pale and mean-looking men in dark blue uniforms. They have no armour on, but Bodhi can see more than one weapon on each of them. He has not seen many other people in this place yet, but from the way those men walked, he can safely assume they wield a lot of power around here.

Bodhi avoided them and kept walking. As far as afterlives go, he is not impressed with this one. He is cold, near-naked, and now he is starting to feel hungry.

He eventually came upon a brightly-lit shop with music playing inside. There are patrons sitting inside, and most of those outdoors are smoking while enjoying their drinks.

‘They’re all human,’ Bodhi thought with a frown. No Tognath, no Twi’lek... there aren’t even any droids in sight.

On one hand, he has not seen the Imperial insignia at all. On the other hand, if he has died on Scarif, there is a chance the Empire’s forces have hunted his comrades down as well… so where _are_ they?

“Hey, you.”

One of the humans sitting outside has spotted him. He began slinking back to the shadows.

The human held up their hands, palms faced toward Bodhi.

“No, wait, I’m not gonna hurt you,” they spoke softly. “Are you lost?”

Bodhi stopped; the human is speaking Galactic Basic Standard, at least. He can understand them.

“I think so,” he replied.

The human lowered their hands and took gentle steps toward him.

“Where are you headed?”

Bodhi shook his head. “I don’t know,” he said.

“Are you homeless?”

At the mention of home, Bodhi remembered the sight of Jedha City going up in ashes and dust. He closed his eyes and pulled the sheet tighter around himself.

“It’s okay.”

The human placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. He opened his eyes again.

“Come with me. I’ll take you to a homeless shelter.”

* * *

The shelter is crowded with yet more humans in various states of dishevelment. They are people with almost nothing – and now Bodhi is one of them.

One thing he couldn’t understand is that these people speak Galactic Standard and yet their signage and text are in odd lines and shapes (though at least he can decipher numbers). He could not read a single word when they asked him to fill in his details for paperwork.

People here seem friendly enough, but they began giving him weird looks when he talks about space travel and other planets. Soon he decided to just keep to himself; it’s better to stay quiet and blend in. There is no war here – not one he is aware of anyway – but there is still suffering, inequality.

He is in no place to stir up trouble, not after what happened the last time.

The next morning, a group of martial-looking men visited the shelter at breakfast. They seem to be recruiting humans for something, with the promise of better food and hourly pay.

Despite himself, Bodhi went up to them to ask what the work entails. The men glanced at each other and told him the Life Foundation is looking for candidates for clinical trials.

‘People get paid to test medicine?’ Bodhi wondered.

He has overheard rumours that the recruits who sign up for Life Foundation experiments do not come out alive, but the broadcasts he saw on telescreens said the Life Foundation is a thriving corporation, excelling in fields encompassing medicine, engineering, and space travel.

That sounds like a place Bodhi should investigate. So he added his name to the roster and joined the other recruits in the van.

He still has to get used to all the staring, though. Maybe through his persistent use of Aurebesh, they _do_ know he is not from this world.

* * *

Bodhi showered and received a new change of clothes when he arrived at the Life Foundation headquarters. He and the other candidates – mostly male, a few female – waited in a quiet room filled with bunk beds and segregated bathrooms. He wanted to see more of the massive complex, but the security guards are not letting him move around freely.

In the hour or so since he arrived, three names have been called. Three people are escorted through the double doors.

None of them came back through. He considers the possibility that the rumours are true.

Bodhi got up from his bunk when he heard his name called (in a tone of disbelief, he noted with self-consciousness). He drew in a long breath and gathered his composure for whatever is to come.

The guards took him to some kind of laboratory with a large transparent enclosure in the middle. He tentatively stepped into the enclosure as indicated.

The door closed behind him.

He stopped looking over his shoulder and took in his new surroundings.

‘What kind of clinical trial –’ he began to wonder, but his curiosity died at the sight of the horizontal tube on a table at the other end of the enclosure.

Gelatinous yellow liquid writhed and pulsed, reaching toward Bodhi.

“Th-that’s a symbiote,” he exclaimed. “That – that’s a symbiote from Klyntar. How did you get – what are you doing with –”

Bodhi backed into the door that remains securely closed. Blood pounded in his veins. His breathing became shallow.

He stared at the other humans in the laboratory, the ignorant white coat-wearing fools who gawk at the sight of his completely rational fear.

“What’s _wrong_ with all of you? Are you insane?” he cried out.

Wide eyes still dreading the release of the creature in the tube, he pounded the door behind him with one fist, begging to be taken as far away from this laboratory as possible.

“So you’re Bodhi Rook.”

Bodhi stopped hitting the door.

‘Who said that?’

He tore his eyes from the symbiote and scanned the lab again.

There is a newcomer dressed in black and grey, his hair short and neat, his face clean-shaven. He moved in the manner of a person with power. He stared at Bodhi, and Bodhi stared back.

They have the same eyes, same nose and ears, same height…

Same voice.

“I think we should halt symbiote experiments for the day,” the man-in-charge spoke.

The coat-wearing people hesitated, but obeyed nonetheless.

The man pressed a button to open the door and let Bodhi out. Bodhi nearly toppled over, but he found his feet and tried to stand up as straight as he could. For a long moment, he and his mirror image just watched one another, studying each other’s features.

Wondering if this is real, if this is possible.

Then the man held out his right hand.

“I’m Carlton Drake,” he introduced himself.

“Bodhi Rook – but you already know that,” Bodhi replied, accepting the hand.

Carlton gave a firm shake, and then took off his grey coat to give to Bodhi. He eyed the garment with uncertainty, but took it anyway and put it on.

The coat fit him perfectly.

“Come follow me to my room,” Carlton invited.


	2. Carlton's Study

Carlton made sure Treece and several tall fellow security guards surround him and Bodhi on their way to his personal room in the Life Foundation headquarters. It’s bad enough that the researchers have seen the other man; he cannot let lower-level employees see him, too.

The fewer eyes see Bodhi, the less effort he’ll have to make in expunging ridiculous chatter.

He dismissed Treece and the guards once Bodhi is safe in the confines of the CEO’s personal bedroom. The place is lavish and routinely cleaned, complete with an en-suite bathroom, a walk-in closet, and a great window’s view facing the sea.

He beckoned Bodhi to follow him into the closet. A significant portion of the clothes are identical – he made sure he is never mistaken for someone else – and most of his non-trademarked clothes are three-piece suits.

Bodhi drew closer to the section that has his track bottoms and T-shirts, but before he could touch anything, Carlton simply pushed into his hands an undershirt and a copy of his current clothes.

“Wear these,” he told Bodhi.

His bearded replica exhaled through his nose, accepted the bundle, and set it on the floor. He took off his generic white shirt, and was about to remove his pants when he noticed that Carlton is still watching.

He cleared his throat. “Do you mind?”

With a thumb on his chin and fingers across his lips, Carlton turned away and walked out of the closet. He stood and waited not far from its entrance.

‘You’ve been quiet,’ he said to Riot.

‘You saw how he reacted to an unbonded symbiote. If he sees me, there is no way for him to trust you,’ the team leader explained.

‘Oh, and you _want_ him to trust me?’ Carlton asked.

‘He is timid, and he looks like you. He may prove to be useful. You know it, and so do I.’

The host smiled into the distance. Riot retreated deep within him as they both feel Bodhi approach.

Carlton eyed the man from top to bottom and then back up. He fit every measurement exactly, from shoulder width to sleeve length, to trouser hem, and even sock and shoe size.

“Sit with me,” Carlton invited.

Bodhi awkwardly sat on the bed next to him, eyes still widened in disbelief. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but stopped himself and looked down to the floor instead.

‘You poor soul,’ Carlton mused. ‘You don’t even know where to start. In that case, I’ll gladly do it for you.’

“Is your name really Bodhi Rook?” he asked.

“ _Yes_ ,” Bodhi insisted.

“Where are you from?”

“I was born and raised in the Holy City of Jedha. I most recently worked as a cargo pilot.” Bodhi tugged at the high, close-fitting collar of the long-sleeved zip-up shirt.

‘He’s nervous about something,’ Carlton thought. Of course, he knew what it was.

“Don’t worry, Bodhi – you’re safe here. The Galactic Empire hasn’t reached this part of the universe,” he said.

Bodhi glanced over his shoulder, at the vast window. It wouldn’t be hard to show him what a primitive, isolated planet he has landed on.

“When did you arrive in this territory?” Carlton continued asking.

“Just last night. Someone showed me the way to a homeless shelter.” Bodhi glanced away. “I thought this was some sort of afterlife, but I could be wrong,” he said with a shrug.

“How did you arrive here?”

Bodhi took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. “I died – or, I _think_ I died. The last thing I remember was carrying out the mission on Scarif to give the Death Star plans to the Rebel fleet.”

Carlton stared at the self-proclaimed cargo pilot and gave the man another once-over for good measure. Now, there is a possibility that this homeless man (who happens to be the same size as him all-around) is simply crazy and believes himself to be a character from a fictitious film. The other possibility is just as likely: that he is indeed Bodhi Rook, that he somehow landed in this world by a freak accident in which the universal fabric of existence is torn.

Either way, studying Bodhi is too good an opportunity for him to allow to slip. The responsibility now rests on Carlton to keep Bodhi alive and show him the ways of this world.

“I’m not a spiritual man,” Carlton began speaking, “I don’t believe in fate or destiny. But I’m drawn to coincidence. I’m a man of science, so naturally I wish to study coincidences – just like this one.”

Bodhi blinked at him.

“Maybe this is your afterlife, or maybe you’ve been resurrected by a greater force. Whatever the case, I’m sure you want to do something with your new life,” Carlton continued.

“I would like to,” Bodhi responded with a little nod.

Carlton gave him a satisfied smile. Riot is right about the potential for Bodhi’s usefulness, about how convenient it would be to have his trust.

First, however, he needs to make sure Bodhi is dependent primarily on him.

“Shave your beard.”

Bodhi scrambled off the bed, away from him. “WHAT?”

“You need a haircut, too, while you’re at it.”

“Why should I look like you?”

Carlton gazed at him with a patient smile. “It helps you blend in and look less suspicious. Besides, no one will dare disturb you when you look like me.”

* * *

After taking off most of the confining clothes, Bodhi stood in front of the large bathroom mirror and reluctantly shaved his facial hair under his lookalike’s watchful eye. He could not help frequently glancing at Carlton, noticing details on him that he normally saw in his own reflection.

‘He’s not me.’

Physically, he and Carlton might be the same. But there was something in the way he moved, in the way he saw the world, that still differentiates him from Bodhi.

‘He’s not me,’ Bodhi repeated to himself, even as Carlton pulled his long hair back and hid it from view in the mirror.

“There. That’s a good look,” Carlton said with a warm smile.

Bodhi shook his head and slipped away, walking back to the bedroom. He took off his shoes and sat on the bed next to the blazer and shirt that he set aside.

“I don’t think I can pull it off,” he exclaimed.

Carlton levelled him a soft stare.

“I can’t be you. I don’t sound like you, I don’t know the things you know – you’re a scientist, and that means you’re expected to know a lot.”

Bodhi drew his knees up and buried his face against his upper legs.

“I can’t even read your lettering.”

He felt Carlton sit near him and place hands on his shoulders.

“I know it’s difficult for you to absorb all this new information, but you’ll have to be patient. Persevere. I have faith that you are capable,” Carlton spoke into his ear.

He raised his head and turned to Carlton.

“Do you believe me?”

“I would like to,” Bodhi repeated. “I _do_ want to trust you. But the first thing I want to know is this: what in the name of all that is good were you doing with a symbiote from Klyntar?” he asked with both hands raised.

Carlton did not seem taken aback by his question or tone at all.

“The astronauts aboard one of my company’s rockets found five symbiotes on a comet, and the yellow one you saw is one of them. My company aims to be the first organisation in the world to study them,” he explained in a calm tone.

“ _Study_?” Bodhi repeated incredulously.

Carlton’s hands slid off of Bodhi’s shoulders.

“Speaking of which, I really should get back to work,” he said, “and I promise it involves far less nefarious things than studying dangerous aliens.”

He pulled a rectangular digital device from his pocket.

“Before I do that, however, I will leave you in the care of a person who has more knowledge and familiarity with distant worlds than even I do.”

Bodhi stared blankly while Carlton lifted the device to one side of his head.


	3. Meet the Critters

Monday morning is gym morning. Frina tried to rouse Eddie so he will join in a healthy routine, but Venom gave the message that his pussy of a host would like to sleep in until noon – or better yet, until after the day’s scheduled symbiote host experiment.

Thus, Frina lifted weights with only Pinion, her purple bird-like symbiote, for company.

After she has showered and changed into (surprise, surprise) T-shirt and jeans, Frina joined Dr Marsail Beliveau at the cafeteria for breakfast.

“What are your plans between after-breakfast and experiment time?” they asked.

“I dunno. Watch YouTube videos, play PC games, probably pick up my flute and try to transcribe some Nightwish songs,” Frina said.

She tossed an almond up. Pinion snatched the nut in her beak; it crunched uncharacteristically before it travelled down her gullet.

“Have you heard from Dora, by any chance? I wanted to text her, but I don’t think she has my number yet – plus I felt it would be intrusive if I’m the one doing it.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine with you contacting her – but yeah, I texted her this morning and she said she’s feeling better, spending time with her kids,” Marsail stated.

“Oh, that’s good to hear.”

After they cleared their trays and washed up, Marsail went to one of the Life Foundation labs, and Frina returned to her room. She was casually looking up bird parks near her location when her mobile phone rang.

The caller ID is a contact on her phone listed as “CD”.

‘What the fuck does he want…’ she wondered.

‘Booty,’ Pinion suggested.

‘Shut up.’

She swiped up to accept the call.

“Frina?” Damn his smooth, persuasive voice.

“No, this is your conscience. How can I help?” she responded in a flat tone.

The microphone on the other end picked up a short exhalation. Sometimes Frina wished her ears weren’t so sensitive.

“Listen, I need you to come to my room.”

Pinion is now laughing audibly.

“I don’t know where the hell it is,” Frina said.

“I’ll send Treece to lead you here shortly. Make sure to bring –” he pauses, probably consulting a list somewhere, “– pen and paper, a pair of scissors, and one of your spare towels.”

That shut even Pinion up.

“Frina, did you hear me?” Carlton asked.

“Not really?” she replied, still baffled.

He repeated the list of items he wants her to bring along.

“Alright, I’ll bring’em.”

“Great. I’ll see you soon.”

Carlton hung up. Frina put her phone down and began searching her enclosure for the things he listed.

* * *

“You should hide your bird,” Treece said to Frina on the way to Carlton’s room.

“What? I’m not a penis,” the purple potoo on Frina’s right shoulder exclaimed.

“Mr Drake has a guest with him. He also knows what symbiotes are, and he’s terrified of them,” Treece asserted with some irritation. He would say nothing else.

Frina frowned. ‘Why would Carlton have a male guest in his _bed_ room?’

‘You already know why. This fact just confirms your theory,’ Pinion told her, seeping into her small human host.

Frina rolled her eyes.

It did not take long for them to reach what appears to be Carlton’s fancy lounge. The other guards stepped aside for Treece to open the door by a small crack. Frina slipped through, hugging the towel that contains the items Carlton asked her to bring.

When she saw the bedroom’s current occupants, her jaw dropped.

She is seeing double.

“A Drake and a Rook?” she said aloud.

Unable to restrain herself, Pinion materialised on Frina’s shoulder as a budgerigar.

“Watch out, fuckers, we’ve got a bird party in here!” she announced, her head and body wiggling in a slight dance.

The longer-haired man shrank and hid behind Carlton, his hands clutching Carlton’s shoulders.

“Force help us, it’s a fully-bonded one!” he yelped.

Frina took off her sandals and put her things aside.

“No, no, please don’t be scared. We’re not dangerous,” she said, going down on one knee, her hands raised. “Pinion, say something,” she whispered.

“Um… damn it, I don’t know anything funny to say,” the purple budgerigar replied.

The man behind Carlton loosened his grip and braved a peek above one shoulder.

Frina gave him what she hoped is a friendly smile and waved slightly with her left hand.

“You’re Bodhi Rook, right? I’m Frina, and this purple bird is Pinion. I mean, of course you know she’s a symbiote, but she really loves being a bird. The other symbiotes think she’s a weirdo, but I don’t.”

“That’s because _she’s_ a weirdo,” Pinion added.

Frina turned to give her bird an exaggerated frown.

Bodhi let go of Carlton and rose to his feet.

“You know my name,” he exclaimed.

“I _did_ say she has knowledge of other worlds,” Carlton reminded him.

Frina glanced at Carlton, wondering what else he told Bodhi about her.

Carlton stood up from his bed and gestured for Frina to rise as well.

“Frina here is the first human on Earth to fuse perfectly with a symbiote. She and Pinion are now part of the Life Foundation’s ongoing experiments – we hope that bonded human-symbiote pairs will give humanity the key to further space exploration,” he explained.

Bodhi blinked. “Don’t you already have the technology available to go from planet to planet?” he pointed out.

“At its current level, the tech is not yet advanced enough to make space travel… efficient.”

Carlton clapped Bodhi on the shoulder.

“We can talk about this later. Right now, I have boring office people to talk to.”

He sauntered to his room door and placed one hand on the handle, but turned to face Frina before he leaves.

“Your job is to help our new friend adjust to this world, preferably at a pace he’s comfortable with. I can reasonably expect that the lesson will last beyond lunch hour, so I’ll have people send meals up to this room.”

Frina nodded. “Alright. Anything else? Like, should we keep Bodhi a secret from most people?” she asked.

“As of now, Treece, my security people, Marsail, and a small handful of researchers are authorised to know about Bodhi. Then there’s you and Pinion.” Carlton gave Frina a sharp gaze. “I trust that you won’t speak of this to Eddie and Dora, and their respective symbiotes.”

Frina glanced at Bodhi, who is visibly terrified at the mention of other bonded symbiotes.

“I won’t,” she vowed.

The corners of Carlton’s mouth pulled upward.

“Excellent. Oh, and there’s just one other matter,” he said as he turned the door handle.

“What?”

“I need you to help cut Bodhi’s hair to look like mine. It’s an essential part of his adjustment to life on this part of Earth,” Carlton said; this time, the smile reached his eyes.

“This is _not_ what I signed on for!” Frina called after him as he left her and Bodhi in his bedroom.

* * *

Frina instructed Bodhi to sit in Carlton’s vanity seat. She draped her spare towel over and around his shoulders so that the cut-away bits of Bodhi’s hair will not land on and stick to his current clothes.

Pinion helped to hold her phone for quick reference; she had to do an extensive image search to see what Carlton’s hair would look like from multiple angles.

“Frina?”

“Yeah?” she responded in a small, gentle voice.

“I’m sorry to be a burden to you.”

“What? You’re not a burden, Bodhi,” she told him, rubbing small amounts of water into his hair.

“You sound distressed when you told Carlton you never promised to cut my hair,” he stated.

“Oh, that? I was quoting a phrase I saw from – a play. Sometimes I try to sound funny, although most of the time I’ll end up failing,” Frina said, smiling at Bodhi’s reflection.

“Our love for comedy doesn’t stop us from being bad at it,” Pinion added.

Frina pocketed her craft scissors and consulted the saved images. She began with cutting Bodhi’s hair to nape-length.

“Since you’ll be sitting here a while, maybe I might as well tell you about present-day Earth,” she suggested.

“Are you sure? I don’t want to distract you from your cutting,” Bodhi exclaimed.

She shrugged. “I’ll manage.”

Frina began with a description of Earth, how it is the only planet in the solar system (and the Milky Way Galaxy, as far as they know) to have sentient life. She then prattled on about technology and invention through the ages. She remarks with wistfulness how today’s technological advancements are highly dictated by the capitalist economic system.

“How does that happen?” Bodhi found himself asking.

“Money and profits are a really dry topic,” Frina said.

By the time she delves into the subject of culture, people politics, and wars, she is finished with the hair on the back of Bodhi’s head. She looked for the right place to part his hair using Carlton’s comb. After teasing the hair so that it matches the original Carlton Drake’s style, Frina began trimming the hair to hopefully accurate lengths.

While she talked, Bodhi listened with rapt attention. Through her tone and sometimes outright words, Frina indicates that she is not a neutral, unbiased source of information. Yet Bodhi feels inclined to believe her when she said there is still much injustice in this world.

Frina wiped the blades of her scissors and inspected her handiwork. She put the tool aside, wet her hands again, and lightly ran her fingers through Bodhi’s now-short hair. After little over a minute, she washed her hands of the cut bits of hair that stuck to her skin.

Bodhi also tilts and turns his head to see how his reflection looked. It’s not a perfect haircut, but it looks good enough for people to really think he is Carlton without a second glance.

Frina shook the cramps out of her hands and neck, and accepted her phone from Pinion. She carefully lifted her towel from Bodhi and beat the fabric to shake off the cut bits of hair.

“You did a great job. Thanks,” Bodhi said.

“Aww, thank _you_ ,” she replied.

Bodhi watched as Frina gathered the waste hair on the floor and placed them in the bathroom’s trash can. She could only imagine how he feels, to see pieces of his old life thrown away.

After a moment’s doubt, she decided to throw her used spare towel into the laundry basket. She nodded at Bodhi, and he followed her out of the bathroom to a sparse desk. There was only one chair, so Bodhi remained standing while she wrote down letters in Aurebesh in black pen and Latin letters (both capital and small) in the next column in blue.

“The language you hear spoken on this part of Earth is called ‘English’. It has various roots that form the words and grammatical rules – I won’t go into that – but the text used in print and writing is called the ‘modern Latin’ alphabet.”

“Alphabet… like ‘aurek’ and ‘besh’,” Bodhi realised.

“Exactly.”

When Frina has finished writing the 26 letters down in both scripts, she left the chair and let Bodhi sit in her place. At first he seems relieved to finally see letters in Aurebesh again, but then his eyes widened; there is no way to hide his reaction to Frina’s attempted penmanship.

She smiled wryly.

“It’s been years since I’ve written in Aurebesh, okay? And I wrote these letters down from memory,” she said.

“Where are the compound characters? Like cherek, orenth, shen…”

“Oh, I didn’t bother learning them. Besides, I don’t think word processors automatically register those inputs.”

“Word processors – there’s a way to type in Aurebesh?” Bodhi asked.

Frina nodded enthusiastically.

“I downloaded the font on my computer. If you’re allowed to go to my room, then you can practice typing Latin letters that correspond with Aurebesh,” she suggested.

Bodhi smiled, too. For once, it seems he is able to forget his apprehensions with this new world and get ready to overcome its challenges.

Frina answered the knocking on Carlton’s bedroom door and wheeled the trolley into the room. The identical meal sets are nothing spectacular, but better than the potato chips and assorted nuts Frina tends to eat at lunch when she’s too lazy to cook or go out to buy something.

She let Bodhi keep his seat at the desk; meanwhile she sits on the edge of Carlton’s bed, using the trolley as her table.

“Frina?” Bodhi asked when he is a quarter way into his meal.

“Yuh?”

“How did you know how to read and write in Aurebesh when most people around here don’t?”

One corner of her mouth is pulled, but she stared at her grilled chicken and fries, avoiding Bodhi’s questioning gaze.

‘How do I tell him he’s a fictional character brought to life?’ she wondered.

‘I have an extra-long meta discussion in mind, but I don’t think there’s enough room in the current page for that,’ Pinion informed her.

Frina momentarily closed her eyes and breathed slowly.

“We humans, as a species, tend to speculate. In that speculation, we write theories and create myths – trying to explain to ourselves how the world works. And sometimes, when the current world is too boring or painful to bear, we imagine other worlds where we’re worth something.”

When she looked at Bodhi, he is still listening patiently.

“There are entire establishments on Earth that are dedicated to exploring and discussing the mechanics of your world – or your galaxy, rather. These organisations are full of people who study fashion, technology, politics, societies…”

Frina glanced at the room door.

“Carlton said I know about other worlds. I may know a bit more than he does, but there are plenty people who know even more than I do. I’m a casual enthusiast compared to them.”

She continued eating at her usual pace, Pinion sometimes extending her neck to steal a french fry.

* * *

When the trays have been cleared away, Frina continued talking to Bodhi about what he prefers doing in his spare time, what music he likes to listen to. He is not sure what to answer, so he asked about her instead, hoping for an insight as to what humans do in this world.

From the way Frina describes herself, she is a boring person not worthy of note. To Bodhi, she sounded like a gatherer of information, particularly stories and melodies.

She said his description flatters her, but her skills are not marketable in her world.

“Marketable – what does that mean? You sell yourselves?”

“We sell our skills. But our skills have to be certified by select academic bodies. To get trained and have our skills certified, the students then have to pay for their education.”

… What an absurd system.

Although Bodhi is keen on Frina’s enlightening him with the workings of ‘capitalism’ on Earth, the discussion is halted by Treece calling for her and Pinion to attend the day’s scheduled experiment in the symbiote labs.

Bodhi wondered if she and Pinion are aware Carlton is still looking for a host for the yellow symbiote.

Left alone in Carlton’s bedroom, Bodhi remained at the desk with Frina’s pens and paper. He could probably start writing in modern Latin – no, it’s too soon to do it without instruction.

Instead, he took a fresh piece of paper and began writing his thoughts down in letters familiar to him.

> _My name is Bodhi Rook. I was a freighter pilot for the Galactic Empire before I defected to the Rebel Alliance._
> 
> _The last vision I had of my previous life is a grenade going off, its heat and explosion washing over me. The next thing I know, I woke up in alley with nothing but a sheet to cover me. I later discover that humans are the only sentient species on this world. Of course, that does not mean all humans are equal._
> 
> _I was led to a homeless shelter, from which I was recruited for what they said were ‘clinical trials’ done by the Life Foundation. I soon discovered that the Foundation is seeking a host for its last unbonded symbiote._

He paused.

> _I also discovered that the person in charge, the person with most power and influence in the organisation, looks exactly like me. He has taken me to his room and told me I can blend in easier among humans if I looked like him._

He unconsciously rubbed down one side of his face.

> _Well, now I do. He made me shave my face and cut my hair – but I’m not him. I don’t know if he wants me to become him, but I don’t think I can ever be him._
> 
> _He brings in a human host and her purple symbiote to teach me more about this world. At first they frighten me, but they showed me they mean no harm._

Bodhi placed the pen down and gazed out the window. After a quiet moment’s thinking, he picked up the stationery again.

> _I don’t know how I got here in the first place, and I don’t know what to do now. I used to think I know who I am and what I want from my life – but this is a new life in a new, strange world._

Tears flowed freely from his eyes. He shook his head.

> _I don’t know what happened to my friends and other people I knew, if they somehow find their way to this world as well. Galen, Cassian, Jyn, K-2SO, Chirrut and Baze…_

He wiped his face and continued writing.

> _I am here now. I must learn more about my surroundings, and about the people who claim they want to help me. There is Carlton Drake, the self-professed scientist with a grand vision for this planet. He sounded sincere about helping me._
> 
> _Then there’s Frina and Pinion. They’ve been told that I fear symbiotes (as anyone rightly should), so they behaved courteously around me. Though, more than that, they have a penchant for humour that reminds me of Chirrut… and maybe Baze, too._

Bodhi wondered whether he should write more, but decided to stop there. He clicked one end of the writing instrument to retract its inked tip. He held up the paper to examine his handiwork.

There. Now Frina can see what written Aurebesh is supposed to look like.

He set the paper down and left the desk, moving to flop down on Carlton’s large bed. He breathed deeply, pillowing his head with his forearms.

What he has not yet written down is the difference he noticed, between the way Carlton and Frina talked. Carlton often spoke in a manner where he expects people to listen to him. Frina imparts memorised knowledge coloured with her own personal opinions, but she sometimes makes analogous comparisons to make sure Bodhi understands what she is explaining.

A politician and a teacher.

He has not heard Pinion speak much, but the symbiote behaved like an extension of her host. He frowned; normally, in symbioses he learned of, the host is subservient to the symbiote.

The purple bird is an anomaly after all.


	4. I Am (Not) You

Carlton ordered assistants to buy fresh new socks and underwear (both top and bottom) and set aside six days’ worth of his usual clothing. The assistants packed the existing and new clothing, along with a pair of sandals, in a small travel suitcase. Bodhi will be wearing one set of customary outfit and a pair of shoes to his new room, of course.

The day was full of fascinating findings. Back at the labs, the hosts cooperated in the collection of symbiote residue samples. Some symbiotes are more eager about donating samples than others… Carlton was fortunate enough to be standing outside the lab, because otherwise Venom’s spit would have landed on him.

Dora occupies an interesting position as both experiment subject and fellow researcher. While Frina is not a scientist herself, she still knows the importance of gathering new knowledge. Eddie, however, is merely tolerating his current fate by being as much of a nuisance as possible to Carlton.

The unemployed symbiote hosts are sent to their enclosures. The researchers took down and tabulated the data for analysts to make sense of later.

Eventually the researchers packed up to leave their workplace. Carlton, on the other hand, stays in the same building where he works.

He is the creator of the Life Foundation. He built this place.

Even when he is off the clock, he never really stops working.

That evening, however, he allows himself an indulgence: ordering another meal-for-two to be sent up to his private lounge right outside his bedroom.

“How was your day, Bodhi?” Carlton asked.

“Uneventful,” he replied with a shrug.

To fill his spare time, his guest may or may not have scoured the bedroom for secrets, not that he will find any. Other than that, he seems to have been writing in the font he knows and attempting to recreate Latin squiggles.

“What do you think about Frina and Pinion?”

“Frina seems nice – helpful, too. Pinion is strange; she takes after her host,” Bodhi answered.

His words piqued Carlton’s interest; his tone indicated that it is not normal for hosts to retain their autonomy after bonding with a symbiote.

‘I can take over you at any time. I merely choose not to, for the moment,’ Riot said to Carlton.

‘Because we seek Bodhi’s trust.’

“If you haven’t yet figured out what you want to do here, I think I might have something for you.”

Bodhi glanced up to meet Carlton’s eyes before resuming eating his dinner. Of course he doesn’t yet know what to do on Earth, and of course Carlton would be the one to come up with ideas.

“Become my body double. See what the world has to offer you – when you’re in a position of great authority.”

Bodhi remained silent, his eyes hollow. Despite the shave and Frina’s barbering efforts, despite the full set of clothes he wears, no one can plausibly believe that the man is Carlton Drake. He is still attached to who he was, to his old life.

Well, then. Carlton will be responsible for his new one.

“Do you doubt yourself?” Carlton asked in a soft voice.

“I already told you: I can’t be you.” Bodhi looked him in the eyes. “Why are you so bent on turning me into you anyway?”

There is the inner resistance, the inner fire that makes Bodhi who he is.

Little did he know: without Carlton’s help, that fire can easily burn him out.

“Do you know what would happen if you were to go out there and tell everyone who you really are?”

That gave Bodhi pause. Carlton resisted the temptation to smirk.

“The authorities will lock you up in a mental hospital, branding you a madman. Tell me: what will you do with your new life when you’re all tied up in a padded cell?”

Bodhi clenched his jaw and averted his gaze from Carlton.

This time Carlton smiled gently. He placed his cutlery down and reached across the table to squeeze Bodhi’s shoulder.

“You’ve already met Frina. You know she can help you. Since she’s currently working for me, she can be seen working for you, too.”

Bodhi met Carlton’s soft eyes.

“Come share my seat of power. You don’t have to do all the same things I do – just attend public events, speak in front of the cameras, and deal with people while _I_ deal with the more technical parts of my job.”

He returned more fully to his seat and resumed eating.

“So basically, I’m not _becoming_ you, I’m just supposed to look and sound like you when people are paying attention,” Bodhi stated in understanding.

“We’re just dividing our duties. I’ll be the scientist, and you’ll be the spokesperson. Between the two of us, we’ll double the company’s rate of progress in medical research and space exploration. Think of all the good we can achieve together,” Carlton spoke.

Bodhi finished drinking his glass of water and gave Carlton a resigned nod.

* * *

Once again, Bodhi is escorted down the Life Foundation complex hallways and corridors by tall security guards, the leader of whom is named Treece. Bodhi packed the pens and paper in the travel bag Carlton provided him. Frina might want her pens back, and he can show her his attempts at writing in modern Latin.

He hoped he did a better job than she did with Aurebesh.

The shaven-headed guard stopped in front of what must have been a typical experiment subject enclosure with transparent walls before curtains got hastily installed all around the interior. He punched in a series of numbers at the door, and it slid open.

“Holy shit! Can’t you fuckers knock?” Frina cried out. She hastily grabbed an article of clothing from her bed and darted into a smaller room that has always been covered.

Treece just shook his head. At a firm nudge from him, Bodhi stepped into the enclosure, lugging the travel bag with him.

Frina shortly re-emerged with no difference to her appearance that Bodhi could notice.

“You have your orders from Drake?” Treece asked.

“Yeah,” Frina replied.

“Good.” Treece unceremoniously closed the enclosure door.

Bodhi examined the room he will apparently be living in for a while. The first things he noticed are the large table and six-stack wooden shelf lined with books. Next to the covered space is a single bed, and in front of it is a low mattress with equally new blankets and pillows.

He first took off the blazer and unzipped the cumbersome shirt, but when he saw that Frina is barefoot in her room, he took off his shoes as well.

When he next looked at Frina, she smiled and clasped her hands together. “And now for the tour,” she said.

The covered area is the bathroom, and it is much smaller and more utilitarian than Carlton’s. In front of the bathroom are a storage area and the basket for dirty laundry. Next to the storage space is the closet where Bodhi can hang up his clothes; Frina will help arrange them. There used to be floor space between Frina’s bed and the closet, but now she will have to be careful not to step on Bodhi if he is lying down on the mattress.

“That’s alright. I’m not new to cramped rooms,” Bodhi stated. “Sorry if it makes you feel crowded in here.”

Frina shrugged. “The alternative might be to move me to his room. I know how _that_ would look.”

Pinion emerged from her shoulder and cawed in exaggerated laughter. She melted back into Frina once she is done.

“Anyway, that’s my bed, this mattress is yours; that chair is mostly mine, and there are stools for guests to this room near the door. There’s a lot of table space for writing, but otherwise one may use the personal computer to watch videos, listen to music, maybe play games. Actually, there are flight simulator games, so you might like those.”

Frina sat at her computer and clicked something. Whatever she did made a series of noises come out of a single speaker in front of the monitor.

“… What is this?” Bodhi asked.

Frina was about to leave her chair, but stayed put to answer: “Music.”

“You call this ‘music’?”

He began feeling guilty when she dropped her face into her palms. But soon she straightened up and gave him a patient smile.

“It’s okay, my parents don’t like heavy metal either.”

She turned to her computer again and scrolled down a long list. She clicked on a particular item, and the song that came out of the speaker is more pleasant.

“This genre of music is called ‘ragtime’, played with the piano,” Frina explained.

Bodhi pulled up a stool and sat next to Frina’s computer chair. He watched as Frina unpacks his bag, deciding on a system for where day clothes, night clothes, and underclothes should be. He noticed with envy that most of her clothes look far more comfortable than the garments Carlton gave him to wear.

“Is there any chance I can borrow your clothes sometime?” he asked.

Frina stopped cold. She turned around to stare at him, and Pinion popped up on her shoulder as a small bird with large eyes.

“I suppose you can, but I don’t know if they’ll fit you,” she said.

“On the bright side, maybe it’s a good thing your everyday wear is dude clothes,” Pinion added.

“Carlton gave me copies of his uniform, but he barely gave me anything comfortable to wear when I’m not out in public. What am I supposed to do, just lounge around the room in a white shirt and underpants?” Bodhi pointed out.

Pinion opened her beak wide until Frina glared at her. Then her beak snapped shut and she blinked at her host several times.

“Fine. I should have plenty of leggings and night shirts in here – the hems could come up a bit short because your legs are longer than mine, though.”

“As long as I don’t have to wear Carlton’s tight materials all the time.”

Frina selected a boxy-patterned pair of stretchy-waist trousers and one of her larger T-shirts. She shut her closet door and passed the clothes to Bodhi, who accepted them with a thankful nod.

He went into the bathroom and locked the door behind him. As he changed his clothes, he could hear Pinion talking to Frina somewhere outside.

“You know, since he’s gonna take your pants, you’ll have to start wearing your obviously-girly night dresses more often from now on.”

“You know what, Pinion, you should stop being horny on main.”

These people may be speaking in Galactic Basic Standard, but sometimes their words just make no sense to Bodhi.


	5. Sophie's School of Acting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which flight simulation is an extracurricular activity.

Frina counts herself lucky to have a symbiote to remind her there is another human in the room with her. Even when she was sleepy, she trod softly so as not to wake her new roommate. After her morning shower, Marsail texted her to notify her that they and Eddie will meet her at the cafeteria (and also mention that one of Carlton’s assistants will discreetly send food to her recently-covered enclosure for Bodhi to eat).

Before leaving her room to eat in casual company, Frina left two word processing windows on the screen of her personal computer: on the left is ‘Typing School’ so that Bodhi can figure out the keys corresponding to letters; on the right is ‘Copy-Paste’ for translating passages and phrases into a script Bodhi can read.

As a fellow host with symbiote, Eddie and Venom asked Frina and Pinion why Carlton decided to install curtains in the latter’s enclosure. Frina feigned ignorance. Pinion suggested the guys to request the same thing of Carlton if they so wish, and accuse him of sex-based preferential treatment if he refuses.

Marsail left the breakfast table in a good mood and left with fellow researcher Coryn. Eddie has just received his computer, so he would not need to borrow Frina’s PC (or go into her room) that morning.

Frina made her footsteps heard before she swiped her security card at her room door. She entered her room and quickly closed the door before taking off her sandals.

Bodhi is sitting in her chair, one of Carlton’s spare towels draped over its back. He turned to face Frina; she can see he is wearing the Carlton Drake slacks, undershirt, and a pair of socks at least.

“Hey Bodhi – how are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m fine.” He gestured lightly at her computer. “Just getting used to the inputs on your keyboard.”

“Yeah, I feel like I should tape corresponding Aurebesh letters on each key while you’re here.”

Frina pulled up a stool to sit down next to him.

“You haven’t shaved,” she remarked.

He sighed. “Yes, I know Carlton gave me the razor and that face cream, but – it’s such a hassle,” he said.

A purple sparrow rose to Frina’s right shoulder.

“Give Bee a break, Fri-Nerd. He’s not going out as Carl anytime soon,” Pinion stated.

“Speaking of that – are you okay in here, or do you maybe feel you need to get out?” Frina asked Bodhi.

“I’m fine here. They even delivered food to the door,” he told her.

Frina nodded and lifted the stool to go around the main chair and sit at the roomier part of the table.

‘You don’t need to be so worried about him. Look at the guy; he’s taller than you,’ Pinion pointed out. ‘Remind you of anyone you know?’

‘Yeah, well, my old “big sis” instincts are hard to kill, so sue me,’ Frina explained.

Pinion nipped her host’s earlobe.

* * *

The new roommates spent most of their morning going over letter-translation practice. Bodhi enthusiastically passed Frina the sheet of paper where he wrote down his thoughts at length.

She examined the neatness and consistency of the pen strokes with impressed eyes.

“How long have you been able to write like this for?” Frina asked.

Bodhi paused. “I’m not sure. I learned to read at age four, write probably at five,” he answered.

Frina shrugged. “It’s good that you have nice handwriting, anyhow. My Latin handwriting, as recently as two years ago, had been so bad that my teacher couldn’t read a single word. Maybe I’m just bad at writing,” she exclaimed.

She gave Bodhi some basic writing exercises: write his and Carlton’s names in Latin, write any other familiar names or words in the font – it didn’t matter whether or not the lettering is neat as long as the words are legible. While he practiced, she compiled a playlist of music that he is likely to tolerate. Pinion sang along to the low-volume melodies that played from the speaker.

During one of their short breaks, Frina sent a text to “CD” on her phone.

> “So when are you gonna allow Bodhi to walk around instead of being a prisoner in my room?”

CD’s status blinked Online for two seconds, but then disappeared. Perhaps five minutes later, the reply came:

> “B4 we let him do that, must make sure ppl blieve he’s me”

Bodhi sat up from his mattress when he heard Frina sighing heavily.

“I wanted to say ‘Carlton is a dick’, but he has a point about not letting you out until people really believe that you’re him,” she said in response to his inquiring eyes.

“Oh.” He paused. “He seems to really irritate you.”

Frina shrugged.

“He’s a prison warden using me, Pinion, you – and some more people I know – to reach his goals, whatever they are. Though part of it is to continue making him rich,” she ranted.

Bodhi glanced away.

“It must be hard for you – living with a constant reminder of your captor.”

“No, that’s not the problem,” Frina explained. “I mean, I know you’re not him, and I’m aware you’re as much a prisoner here as I am.”

“Besides, you and Carlton are much healthier and better-looking than Frina’s previous prison warden,” Pinion piped up.

Eyes wide, Frina shoved her birdy symbiote back into her shoulder. She gave Bodhi a reassuring smile.

“I think we can take a break from writing practice at this point.”

* * *

Several tabs feature videos: interviews, guided tours, and other recorded interactions with Carlton Drake. Frina transcribed most of the words by hand, later adapting them to Aurebesh for Bodhi to read.

“For you to successfully imitate Carlton, it’s not enough for you to match his accent or memorise the kind of phrasing he would use – they certainly help, of course.”

In exchange for Bodhi wearing some of her nightclothes, she also borrows some of his Carlton uniform. He begrudgingly put on his own zip-up shirt and blazer for the “acting class”, as Frina calls it, but he drew the line at styling his now-short hair to look like Carlton’s.

“Much of human communication includes non-verbal signs as well as words. In order for people to believe that you are Carlton, you must believe it, too.”

“Can you really get into someone’s head without becoming that person?” Bodhi asked.

“Sure. Fiction authors do it all the time. Just because we research and write villains, it doesn’t mean we end up manifesting their traits.”

“Most of the time, those traits are already in us before we see them in fictional characters. Look at Soundwave from _Transformers: Prime_ and how much Fri-Nerd and I resemble him and Laserbeak,” Pinion pointed out.

“That’s not helpful,” Frina told the symbiote currently shaped as a watch on her left wrist.

The small woman looks ridiculous in Carlton’s clothing; she rolled up the sleeves to be able to use her fingers, but there is nothing she could do about the exceeding lengths of the shirt and blazer.

She scanned the transcriptions for a short interview clip that Bodhi can start re-enacting. When she found it, she marked the start of the paragraph (on both Latin and Aurebesh pages) with a green highlighter. Bodhi gave her some room to find the tab with the video clip she chose.

> _“Here at the Life Foundation, we always believe that we can rise after each fall, and in our disappointments in the months since our rocket failed, we’ve learned so much._
> 
> _… We are thrilled to announce that the Life Foundation has now begun preparations on its next launch.”_

“There – that should be easy enough to mimic. Just stand up all confident, look at the camera, and say those words,” Frina instructed.

“I’ll be the camera,” Pinion volunteered.

Frina held her left forearm horizontally before her, and the purple symbiote materialised as a great horned owl.

“Whenever you’re ready,” she and Pinion said at the same time.

Bodhi watched the clip and studied it a few times, committing the transcribed and translated words to memory. Soon he got to his feet, zipped up the grey shirt, and smoothed the black blazer. He cleared his throat and faced his teachers.

Frina and Pinion kept their face and manner neutral as Bodhi repeated what Carlton said, the way he remembers Carlton saying them. He did not have to see Pinion briefly turning her head toward Frina to know he is doing it wrong.

“You can still hear my accent, can’t you?” he asked.

“Accent is part of it; you need conviction, too,” Frina explained.

“Conviction?” he repeated, sitting down on Frina’s bed.

“As I learned it, the most important thing in acting is desire. What does the character want, and how will the character convey what they want?”

“In Carlton’s case, he expresses his desire to save the world through focused monologues,” Pinion interrupted.

“Well, let’s see _you_ do it, then,” Bodhi told Frina.

Pinion retreated into her host. Frina paced from the table to the door and back, closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and opened them again, her gaze concentrated on one spot of the curtain-lined enclosure wall.

She did not get the words completely right, and she may have thrown in a few extra gestures, but her manner, her posture, the undertones of superiority and intellect – if not for her vocal cords, she would have sounded _exactly_ like Carlton.

That wasn’t all. At the end of her imitation of Carlton’s announcement, she looked over her shoulder and smirked at Bodhi, eyes narrowed slightly.

“Uh… Frina?”

She immediately broke character, fully turning to face him with a smile reserved for photos with colleagues.

“Yuh?” she responded.

“How did you do that?” Bodhi asked.

Frina shrugged. “Either I’ve spent too much time with the guy, or I understood the gist of his desire,” she said.

“She’s wearing the outfit, so she must be cheating,” Pinion offered, popping up as a seagull this time. She turned to Frina and shouted: “STRIP THEM OFF!”

“Gosh, calm down, you horny bird,” Frina told her symbiote.

She removed the blazer and unzipped the long-sleeved shirt, laying them flat atop each other at the foot of her bed. She stepped back, paused, and faced the gull on her shoulder.

“That’s funny, Pinion. I still feel like the destined saviour of humanity,” Frina spoke in Carlton’s tone again. As soon as she made eye contact with Bodhi again, the corners of her mouth pulled up.

“Let’s rewrite history.”

“Okay, now you’re scaring me,” Bodhi told her.

Frina dropped the Carlton façade more quickly than she shed his clothes off of her.

“That line wasn’t Carlton’s, it was from something else I watched,” she explained.

“That’s not the point.” He licked his lips. “How did you manage to sound just like him?”

Frina went to the closet and retrieved a spare hanger on which she can store the shirt and blazer on her bed without wrinkling them.

“Like I said, it’s about desire. There’s trying to sound like him, and there’s _really_ feeling like him. To do that, you need to get into his head, understand what he wants from this world, or somewhere beyond.”

“And what do you understand about Carlton?” Bodhi asked, leaning against the wall the bed is propped up against.

Frina placed the hanged clothes in her closet.

“He sees humanity as a doomed species. In this galaxy, Earth is the only planet humans can live on. So what do humans still do in the end? Somehow, a small handful of people inherit a lot of power, and they hold significant sway over the governments of this world. To further enrich themselves, they exploit humans for labour and pollute the environment.”

She glanced at her symbiote.

“Carlton knows as well as I do that it’s basically impossible to topple those in power and reverse the degradation of the world. So he intends to search the stars for the answer to the problems humans created on Earth.”

“And he thinks symbiotes are the solution?”

She avoided meeting his eyes, staring at the door of her room instead.

“Part of it.”

She sat on her bed, keeping a respectable distance from her roommate.

“Carlton has _his_ way of caring about the world around him. As powerful as he is, those powers are limited – but he’s confident he is the one to save the world because he is the one most aware of the situation. He knows what has to be done, and he will change people’s minds so that they’ll go along with what he wants.”

Frina went to refill her glass with water, giving Bodhi time to allow the words to sink in, maybe also think about his previous encounters with Carlton.

“So he thinks he’s smarter than most people, and he knows he can save the world,” Bodhi remarked.

He placed his sock-wearing feet on the floor and stood up.

“Alright, I’m ready to try again.”

Frina placed her glass down and played the short clip of Carlton’s announcement once more for Bodhi to watch, to pick up any other possible cues from the oh-so-important man he happens to resemble. She leaned against the now-curtained enclosure wall, next to her bookcase.

He composed himself – he even smoothed his hair a bit – and this time, instead of speaking to Frina or Pinion, he speaks in the direction of the two googly eyes taped on the middle of the upper bezel of Frina’s PC monitor.

He could not sustain Carlton’s good cheer at the end of the clip; he knows he hasn’t done it right.

Frina paused before giving her observation.

“You’ve got the intonation and gestures down, it’s just –”

“Ugh, I failed again, I know!”

He paced, fingers of his right hand pressed against his forehead.

“It’s not all bad, Bodhi. Like he said, we learn when we fail. And he’s right: this time you managed to match his accent,” Frina told him.

She waited for him to step away to avoid collision, and sat at her computer again. She bookmarked the pages of videos not yet worked on, and closed those tabs.

“I don’t get it. I have the same voice as Carlton, but I still can’t sound like him,” Bodhi exclaimed.

“You _will_ get it in time. Acting is a performance art, and like other forms of art, you get better with practice,” Frina told him.

“The last time you managed to successfully lie to people, it was when you feel like you’re exactly who you’re meant to be, right? An Imperial pilot,” Pinion added.

Bodhi stopped in his tracks. “I suppose so…”

“If you want people to believe you, you have to believe yourself, too. If you feel you know who you are, that’s what you express, what the world ends up seeing,” Frina said absently, still bookmarking and closing tabs.

“And you know who _you_ are?” Bodhi asked.

Frina stretched her face to a comical expression, her eyes wide, and then smiled.

“I see myself as a professional weird-person – what that means can vary from moment to moment.”

She closed a few final tabs, then swivelled the seat of her chair to face him.

“You don’t have to figure out who you are immediately, though; you just got here. In the meantime, another way to get better at imitating someone’s speech,” she said, “is to follow the way someone sings.”

She went to the beginning of her Rook-Friendly playlist and found “Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica. Pinion whistled the opening melody, and later Frina sang the first and second verse in a lower register.

“Do you sing?” she asked Bodhi after lowering the volume of the music by a little.

“I haven’t done that in a while,” he replied. “And you do?”

“Not in public, if I can help it. I prefer playing the melodies on flute instead.”

On Steam, Frina downloaded one flight simulator and two games that deal with piloting spaceships. On a web browser, she opened a new tab and keyed in a search for joysticks. She vacated her chair and waved for Bodhi to take the seat.

“What’s this?” he asked Frina; on the screen is a top-ten list of flight simulator throttles and control sticks.

“I’m installing flight simulator-type games for you to play on my computer. Now, it wouldn’t be realistic to control ships only using mouse and keyboard, so this list is for you to browse. Choose the one you think you can use comfortably, and I’ll place the order to get it.”

A bright smile bloomed on Bodhi’s face. “Thanks,” he said.

Frina returned the smile and nodded.

Now a chickadee sitting on Frina’s right shoulder, Pinion poked her beak against her host’s jaw.

“Wanna tell him your experience with flight simulators?” she asked.

“It was embarrassing,” Frina retorted.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Bodhi said, glancing at her with a small smile.

“Oh, I will. Otherwise Pinion will start recounting even _more_ embarrassing stories from my past.”

Bodhi turned away from the PC, giving Frina his full eager attention.

“I went to an aircraft museum with my family, and there is this arcade-style flight simulation machine, complete with the seat, joystick, panels and everything. So I took the seat and tried to pilot it, but according to the screen, my aircraft crashed before it even takes off,” Frina spoke.

Pinion burst out in laughter that, in a few seconds, devolved into mock-crying noises.

“It must have been a faulty – but Pinion is –” Bodhi cleared his throat. “How did you and Pinion achieve perfect symbiosis, then?” he asked.

Frina waved for Bodhi to give her some room at the mouse and keyboard. She opened a new tab and began searching for a video.

“You’ve gotta understand how birds fly. Some of us flap, others prefer to glide. With either method, the only input is our feathery arms, not engines, buttons and sticks,” Pinion stated.

Frina clicked on one video called ‘How fast an ostrich can run’ and stood aside to let Bodhi watch it.

“That’s fast, right?” she asked when the video ended.

“Those birds look fast, yeah,” he agreed.

“Do you think they can operate hoverbikes or land-speeders? Maybe even an AT-ST?” Frina continued asking.

“I… don’t think so.”

Frina closed the tab and left Bodhi to resume deciding which controls he wants for flight simulation games.

“In any case, as Pinion’s host, I’m still human. Who knows – maybe you can teach me to fly something,” she remarked.

Smiling, he nodded at her. “Could be fun.”

Frina went to sit on her bed and assemble her flute. The music flowing from her desktop speaker is soft, but she can still hear the melodies and follow their keys. Bodhi sometimes glanced at her, but he did not call for her until he picked out the flight stick with throttle that looked ideal for him. She read the attributes, and when they seem reasonable, she placed her flute on the table and reclaimed her seat to order the item online.

“Carlton gives Eddie and myself each an allowance of $300 a month. Fortunately, I hardly eat outside the Life Foundation cafeteria, and the control set you want to buy is only $70. If we order today, it could arrive maybe tomorrow or the day after,” she spoke.

“I can’t tell you how much this means – what you’re doing for me,” Bodhi told her.

Frina reciprocated his smile softly and returned to face the computer.

“It helps you adjust to this world. I’m just doing my job.”


End file.
